What's in a name?

As the parent programmer for Sophie's pre-school co-op, I help out with planning and prep for all holiday parties. When the selection of our ideal class jobs was made, this was top of my list and I was over the moon when I got it. With my background in the service industry, I know a thing or two about putting on a party. For the most part, it's pretty light stuff: a few decorations and favors as well as the snacks that will be served.

Today was her class Thanksgiving celebration, so I was there to help out. All of the parents were asked to bring in an element of the Thanksgiving "dinner" that we would be prepared and served by our little ones. The parents then returned a half hour earlier than usual so the kids could sing songs and we could eat our feast together. As part of the festivities, the kids wore crafts they had made. Among these were a paper headdress and necklace, both of which were Native American inspired. When the teacher welcomed the parents to our party, she introduced her tribe of little "Indians."

When I grew up, the term Indian was in common use to refer to Native Americans. We played cowboys and Indians, we sat Indian-style and, prominently, Thanksgiving was about the pilgrims and the Indians. It hails back to Columbus' expedition more than 500 years ago in search of a westbound route to India and while its fallacy was quickly established, the name stuck.

At some time in the last 25-30 years, there has been a shift towards the politically correct, and more accurate, "Native American." And while I don't consider Indian to be derogatory, its use has certainly fallen out of favor, particularly in schools. Which is why I was a tad surprised when the teacher used that term. This is a non-public school, so we aren't bound by the same rules and practices as our public counterparts, but there is still an expectation that certain conventions will be followed.

Personally, I am not offended by the term Indian. In fact, there are many situations where it feels down right weird to use the PC version. Cowboys and Native Americans? Just doesn't have the same ring for me. I also know that many Native Americans continue to call themselves Indians.

But today I got to thinking. Because there is a little girl in Sophie's class who is actually Indian, as in, born in India, bona-fide Indian, Indian. And I wondered what she thought of the use of the term Indian to refer to Native Americans. Because even at three going on four, she must understand the difference. Does it confuse her?

What do you think? Are we over-sensitive to these things? Not sensitive enough?

My Daughter, The Pre-Schooler

It's official. Her first day was last Friday. She goes Tuesdays and Fridays, 9am-11:30am. The first two sessions all of the parents accompanied their new little students for the entirety of the class, but today, yea, this very day, I dropped her off and went on my merry way.

During the first session, I was a little nervous. Although she spends a considerable amount of time among other kids in the gym's childcare and she had VBS last month, she has never been in a situation that required much in the way of structured group activities. And certainly very few situations where she had to follow directions other than those barked out (or screamed) by her mother.

True to her rebellious form, she was not among the kids who quickly lined up when asked, or that stayed lined up for more than 10 seconds once there. She participated in activities as it suited her whim. And she felt very strongly that SHE should be the line leader. Let there be no confusion, she's an alpha, that girl of mine. Someday, when her high school principal calls because she's been caught doing something bad, I will be fairly certain that it was she who led the expedition.

However, it would not be fair to not point out that she boldly did all of the activities asked of her while many other children stood back timidly. She may have lost interest and moved on before some of those kids even had a chance to step up to the table, but there was no fear. Also, she was unfailingly friendly, the quintessential social butterfly.

At the second session on Tuesday, she was more willing to follow the direction of the teacher and while she still has a long way to go, I was proud at how quickly she had picked up the routine of the day and the cues that indicated the beginning of a new activity. When I went to pick her up today, her first solo outing, she was happily chatting with one of the other kids, a little girl she named Purple Dress. For obvious reasons. Reports from the teacher were positive. And she is excited to go back next week.

Myself? I spent the time running errands. It wasn't exactly pampered "me" time but tasks that normally take half a day, I accomplished in less than 2 hours. And for a busy mom, that is luxury enough.

Hooray for pre-school!

The obligatory first day of school picture.

The Things We Do

I got my first introduction to the seedy underworld of pre-school registration recently. I had no idea this was such a cut-throat endeavor. I'd heard tales, of course. Seen bits in movies. But I honestly just thought they were urban legends. People don't really clamor for spots, do they?

They do.

When I went to the open house for my chosen pre-school, I was delighted and nervous when I saw just how many other prospective attendees were there. But when talk turned to the process for actual registration my nervousness turned to shock.

Registration was to take place at 6:30pm the following Friday. Parents would be given numbers as they arrived and that is the order they would be registered in. And what time did they think we should come? Well, last year parents began showing up around 10. That's TEN Ay Em. EIGHT AND A HALF HOURS BEFORE REGISTRATION.

When they said that, I snorted and turned to walk out. I wasn't going to waste any more of my time on this BS. But halfway to the door I started thinking. First, this is a great pre-school. I have several friends whose children have gone here and raved about it. Second, it is significantly less expensive than the others I was looking at. Sophie's experience is the most important factor but all other things being equal, if we can save a thousand dollars, I'm not going to turn that down. So I halted my stomping out in protest and decided to listen to the rest of what they had to say.

It turned out to be an enjoyable morning as Sophie took part in typical activities with her future classmates. The teachers were really nice and I believed it a good fit for my daughter.

But there was that registration looming over me.

Over the week and a half leading up to the registration day, I changed my mind a hundred times. Going. Not going. Going. Not going. The idea of lining up and sitting there ALL DAY to sign my daughter up for pre-school was not an appealing one. But in the end, I decided to make the sacrifice. Because I'm officially the best mom ever. Or the craziest. So I asked Neil's parents to watch Sophie for the day and I resigned myself to the insanity.

On the appointed day, I dropped off Sophie and headed to the school. I arrived about 10:30 and I was certain that I would be one of the first people there. Wrong. I was 11th. The first arrived at 6:30. Thaaaat's right. 6:30 am. For pre-school registration.

Fortunately, neither the school nor the other parents were super strict about how we spent our time waiting and while some chose to sit in chairs lined up at the door, I opted to sit within the comfort of my car reading The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo on my Ipad, with the occasional phone call or game of Angry Birds thrown in to break it up. Around 2, the kindly Katie took pity on me and showed up with a cookies and creme milkshake from Chick Fil A. Otherwise it was a quiet and uneventful day.

At about 6:15, we all lined up at the door of the school and prepared for the magic moment. We filed in and waited for our numbers to be called. With just 14 spots in the morning class I wanted and an unknown number already taken by children whose brothers or sisters had already come through the program, I was not optimistic that Sophie would get in. Sadly, my fears were justified, but there was a spot in the afternoon class. So, despite my concerns about this interfering with her naps, I signed her up. I don't mind telling you, I'm pretty excited for September. Sophie is going to love it there.

I know it's crazy, but those hours seem like a good investment on my daughter's future. Sure, it's just pre-school, but these are formative years, right? I guess I'll just have to chalk this up as yet another on the long and ever-growing list of things I never thought I would do as a parent.